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“Are you sure?” Theo asked, putting a comforting hand on Seraphina’s shoulder.

“Go win the prize,” Seraphina encouraged, giving her a weak smile.

Theo nodded, and Seraphina let Rose lead her to a bench, far away from the others.

“You keep much inside you,” Rose said softly. “I can tell you are not sharing everything. Please tell me. Perhaps I can help lift this burden.”

Seraphina sighed, and took a moment to take in the beautiful flowers surrounding them. She wondered then what sort of flowers, if any, grew at Martin’s estate. He did not seem to be the type of man to entertain something as frivolous as flowers.

“I am torn,” she confessed finally. “Between allowing this marriage to the Earl to happen, or fighting for one with Hug- I mean, the Duke.”

She flushed as she realized she’d almost said his given name. She glanced at Rose, hoping her friend had not caught her slip.

“You speak his given name so freely,” Rose remarked, without excitement or judgment. “Has something… “blossomed” between you two?”

“You could say that,” she confessed. “When I am around him I feel…”

She blushed, thinking of the overwhelming fire Hugo ignited within her, even before he had “relaxed” her. It had started well before that, when he’d first proposed that they marry. He had caused a flame to erupt within her the moment he’d first reached for her cheek the first day he’d called on her.

“Comfort comes in all shapes and sizes, I believe,” Rose ventured when Seraphina did not continue. “I know there would be a sort that came with marrying Lord Repington. But would it be a comfort for you? Or for your mother?”

“Yes,” Seraphina sighed, “I have been contemplating that. “She constantly tells me I must marry well to save my reputation, but I think it is more to save her own.”

“You want to know what I think?” Rose asked.

Seraphina turned to her and nodded.

“Please,” she encouraged.

“I think that even if you do marry Lord Repington, nothing will save your mother from theton’sgossip. She had an affair with a married man, and no matter how well you marry, it will not cover her own sins. I think you should do what makes you the happiest. In the end, we can only be responsible for ourselves, no matter how hard others try to insist otherwise.”

Seraphina leaned forward and embraced Rose tightly.

“You are a true friend,” she said emphatically. “I am so grateful to have you.”

“And I you,” Rose answered warmly, hugging her back.

When they let each other go, Rose stood up, and gave Seraphina a supportive smile.

“Take some time. Consider yourself,” she encouraged.

Seraphina nodded, and watched in quiet contemplation as Rose wondered off toward their other friends. Time blurred as she sat alone on the bench, and as the sun slowly sank toward the west, she let her thoughts play out on her own. One in particular kept replaying constantly and it was one she did not have an answer to: did she truly have a choice?

She wanted Hugo. There was no denying it. Even when she was angry at him there was a joy she felt during their banter. And as for his touch, well…she had never experienced such pleasure. Yet there was a mystery surrounding him; a dark past that she still did not know the truth of. If she asked, would he tell her? Or would he give excuses like he did to everyone else that confronted him? What had truly happened to him to spark such ill rumors?

As the sun set, she finally got up from the bench and made her way back toward the party, still unsure as to what to do. A grim feeling overtook her as she drew closer to the house, and spotted not just her mother, but her father as well walking toward her.

“Papa,” she greeted, her tone stiff.

Though she felt no kinship toward the man whatsoever, she moved toward him as he offered his cheek, and placed a quick kiss upon it.

“Your mother and I have concluded our discussion with Lord Repington,” he replied, looking pleased. “Considering that everyone of any importance is attending, it would seem that this gathering would be the perfect place to officially announce your engagement.”

Seraphina felt her body grow taut with tension, going as rigid as stone.

“So it is official, then?” She forced out; a sense of dread rising through her.

“Indeed it is,” her father replied. “Congratulations, daughter. You will be the Countess of Repington by the end of the summer.”